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“Fine, but only because this is the best tech crisis ever. Keep me updated!”

Around midnight, Lucas notices me rubbing my neck and gently takes over, his thumbs working out the tension while I continue typing. The office is quieter now, filled with the soft sounds of keyboards and occasional muttered coding commentary.

“Remember when we thought the sprinkler incident was our biggest technical crisis?” I murmur, leaning into his touch.

“This is more fun,” he says softly. “Though maybe with less actual water damage.”

“Though more ducks,” Natalie adds, bringing fresh coffee. “By the way, Gordon Junior just added a ‘workplace wellness’ module. Apparently, he thinks we all need more breaks for ‘aquatic meditation.’”

“If you two are done being disgustingly adorable,” Miles interrupts, “I think I found the issue. Gordon Junior isn’t just redecorating the backup system. He’s... well, you should see this.”

We crowd around his monitor, and I feel my heart sink. The Gordon Junior protocol has decided that file permissions should be assigned based on how much each user appreciates rubber ducks. Including the ones for tomorrow’s presentation.

“Let me get this straight,” I say, studying the code. “Our adaptive system observed how the night shift team interacted with the Gordon Junior button, noted their enthusiasm for the duck, and has now determined that duck appreciation should be a factor in system permissions?”

“Exactly,” Miles nods. “It’s interpreted their behavior as a pattern and extrapolated it as a system-wide rule.”

“Can we fix it?” Lucas asks, his hand finding mine automatically.

“Yes, but...” Miles looks apologetic. “We’ll have to rebuild the entire permissions structure. From scratch. Tonight.”

Jenkins, who’s stayed this whole time and seems to be enjoying himself, peers at the screen. “Is it just me, or are some of these duck-based analytics showing interesting patterns in our sustainability data?”

I’m about to start calculating timelines when Lucas straightens, that familiar spark in his eyes that means he’s about to turn my chaos into brilliance.

“What if we don’t fix it?”

“What?”

“What if, instead of fighting Gordon Junior’s aquatic aspirations, we use them? Show the board how our system adapts to unexpected changes in real-time.”

I stare at him, possibilities clicking into place. “Turn our duck-related crisis into a feature?”

“Show them how we handle unexpected system modifications with style?”

“Look at this,” Mike calls from his station. “The way Gordon Junior’s reorganized our efficiency metrics—it’s creating more intuitive data clusters. The ripple effect is showing sustainability impact patterns we hadn’t noticed before.”

I peer over his shoulder, my analytical mind kicking into high gear. “He’s right. The adaptive algorithm has identified correlations we missed in our original design. It’s visualizing them through this water pattern, but the underlying data organization is quite sophisticated.”

“And the wellness reminders?” Natalie adds. “They’re synced perfectly with our peak productivity times. It’s like he’s created an AI-driven work-life balance protocol.”

“That’s either brilliant or completely crazy,” Miles says, but he’s already typing faster.

“Those are usually Emma’s best ideas,” Lucas says proudly. “I’m just learning from the master of turning chaos into innovation.”

The team dives back in with renewed energy. Instead of fighting the Gordon Junior protocol, we start refining it—improving the visualization while maintaining the unexpected insights it’s discovered.

“We’re essentially collaborating with our adaptive algorithm,” I explain to Jenkins, who’s watching in fascination. “It’s learned from user behavior and developed its approach to data organization. Now we’re learning from it.”

“Revolutionary,” he murmurs, scribbling notes. “Completely unorthodox but potentially groundbreaking.”

He rolls up his sleeves to help, muttering something about “revolutionary adaptive systems” and “unique approach to employee engagement.”

I’m about to kiss Lucas for being brilliant when every screen in the office suddenly displays a new message:

GORDON JUNIOR THINKS THIS NEEDS MORE DUCKS ??

“Well,” Mike laughs, “at least he’s consistent.”